my resolve remains unchanged

She roamed and rummaged around the kitchen for about ten minutes before finding out all the utensils she needed for the preparations: firstly, the wooden mortar and the mallet, essential for mashing the dough, then few more items that the petite priestess deemed to be useful for the making of this sweet, that was, more bowls to move the rice around and some wooden ladle to make sure everything mixed properly together.

By the times she prepared all the tools on the main counter, neatly placed and ordered, the water was starting to boil and that meant that she could place the bamboo steamer with the wet rice inside, over the pot to steam cook, which was the best method to use to make the rice softer and more malleable. The first step was complete, the rice just needed ten or fifteen minutes to properly cook and as she was calculating the time to wait, a pleasant surprise appeared at the door.

“Welcome back!” she chirped as she greeted him with a smile, heading to help him over with the bags, while she already peeked inside, “You got a lot of ingredients, how nice!” she giggled, placing the bag on the counter, not so distant from the mallet. “I've put the rice to steam cook, in the meantime we can choose who’s gonna do what” she nodded as she placed herself near the wooden mortar, “You know better than  me that there are two roles and that I am happy to do whether you prefer” she lastly said, as she patiently waited from him to choose his role for now, perfectly aware of the fact that they could even change tools if they wanted.

Certainly, people had gone to the infirmary for far more ridiculous stunts. However, Ryoma did not want to be a point of gossip to the infirmary.

"I can already see how strong you've grown." Sakura had grown up so much without him. This thought fizzled out the moment he remembered this was not the Sakura he had left behind; she would have had a Ryoma worth following.

This was irrelevant to the activity, of course, yet his mind always wandered.

"If you ever leave my side again, I'll hunt you down and kill you myself." She wasn't sure if that was an empty threat or not. A sign of her love, wounded, hurt, but still there. Then, with effort, Hinoka extracted herself from Ryoma's embrace. She didn't bother scrubbing at the mess of her face, the ruined make-up that she would need to fix, the tear tracks that gave away that she had been crying, but she shoved all expression down.

Back behind the mask of a Queen that she had learned to wear in the wake of her brothers' deaths. Back to something far more diplomatic than needed for a conversation with her brother, but she did not want to start screaming at him again. She could shout at him all day and get absolutely nowhere.

“I will always be here.” Could he promise that? If Hinoka asked him to return to Hoshido tomorrow, could he do it? Would Ryoma have any other choice? He watched her leave - run. From him, from the situation, from her own feelings, it didn’t matter.

He paused for a few beats after she had left. Truthfully, Ryoma had forgotten what he had come to the training grounds for. He doubted it mattered in the first place.

Without another breath of hesitation, he moved over to the arrows and picked them up, one by one. When had she learned archery? He should have asked. He would have the time to, now.

He picked each arrow off the ground, like a child picking the first flowers of spring. All Ryoma was left with was a bouquet of weaponry.

His arms find Ryoma's waist again and he allows a quiet him to escape as he gives a nod of his head. "I imagine dealing with stuffy politicians all day doesn't add to what little excitement there must be already." It's another few moments or before Saizo barely pulls away.

(After election season, Ryoma hopes to change that. He hopes to change many things between them.)

When Saizo barely pulls away, Ryoma takes this as his cue to move as well. The moment he loses that contact, every part of Ryoma wants to lean back into him. He moves to the kitchen and opens the fridge.

Saizo frowned as Ryoma reached for where the whistle normally laid against his chest. It was still in Jugdral. Buried by the dessert sand or frozen atop snowy mountains. Maybe one of those cultists or bandits found it? There was a part of him that was willing to make the journey back to go find it for him. Or find some sort of replacement for him though Saizo doubts whatever he could think of to offer would be the same. "That was the same in my timeline as well. I needed you too, it just made things a little more messy."

Was that the right word? It hadn't made it difficult to do his work or follow orders, and they both sought each other out, but when the lines blurred, it hadn't made anything less confusing. It fueled a small spark of hope that they'd get back together again. "After the war ended, he became busy with his duties as king. We never talked about it. I'm not sure that we would if I were to go back."

He's surprised that Saizo and his king have never discussed things. Is that Ryoma as cowardly as the Ryoma of now? He doubts it, but then, why would he give up on Saizo? It makes such little sense, that Ryoma wishes he could ask himself about it.

"Would you want to talk about it?" Selfishly, Ryoma hopes Saizo doesn't. He hopes that it's over between his other self and Saizo. However, he knows this is irrational. He knows it could never be - they could never be. At least if Ryoma encourages Saizo to return to his king, then in a sense, it would fulfill Ryoma too. After all, it is the right thing to do.

It was still... a little unbelievable that it was Ryoma standing up for her. Though perhaps that was unfair of her. It wasn't like he knew what a different version of himself had done.

Still, his intervention and insistence made the woman shrink back. It was amusing.

"A-and what would your interest in the matter be?" the woman asked. Thrasir could see her trying to find way to still dismiss this matter, so she did something she didn't normally do in such a circumstance... she jumped in with an explanation. Pounced on an advantage.

"He is my sponsor," she lied in her flat monotone. Thrasir would apologise to Ryoma later. But her explanation was enough to make the woman pause.

"Your... sponsor?" the woman asked incredulously. "You? So is he then going to take responsibility for your actions?"

"Of course I am. She's a girl like any other, and will be a student like any other."

It didn't matter how Thrasir saw herself, Ryoma saw the girl that she was. He saw how she treated others, and fought for them too. It didn't matter what anyone else said, Ryoma knew the truth.

"Should anything go wrong, then she's my responsibility. I doubt we will have any problems." Despite appearances, she had a human heart within her. If she didn't care, she could have killed them all and said to hell with it. She didn't. She didn't give up on them, so he would not give up on her.

"Now, is that everything? Do I need to sign anything to allow this to happen?"

"It has been mostly alright," she replied. "There are some lovely people here."

And then there were people that Hinoka would wish wouldn't talk to her. She was already out of her depth. Though Princess Camilla had a point. Hinoka would.... apologise for her reaction after the ball. Shaking her head, she stepped up beside her brother and grasped his arm. Squeezing it tightly.

He walked slowly, as if there wasn't a care in the world. In reality, he wanted nothing more than to drag his sister out of there and make sure she was alright. However, she was the queen: how would it look if her older brother were to rescue her? No, instead they were enjoying a nice stroll together.

He keeps walking, until the fresh air hits their faces and the sounds of the ball are far behind them. He takes in a sharp breath.

"You know I haven't!" she replied, a little heated. "You know where I was whenever there were lessons! And I would always sent Sakura in my place to parties.... gods I'm a horrible sister."

Hinoka's hands flew up to cup her face. She stared at the ground for a moment, rubbing at her temples. Inevitably, she knew, one day there would be a party she couldn't avoid, it was coming, now that she was Queen. She shouldn't have ditched her lessons. And here she was thinking she even had a remote chance of winning a dancing competition, let alone qualifying for one.

Ryoma sighed. "You don't dance horrendously, you haven't been taught. I won't insult you on a skill you haven't had the chance to cultivate yet."

He stood in front of Hinoka. "The most important step is to relax. If you're stiff, your movements will be stiff. Take a deep breath, and relax yourself as much as you can. Think of something that makes you happy; that works for me."

If only it were that simple. It needed to be. He wanted it to be.

Saizo follows Ryoma quietly, expertly weaving through the crowds of students and other faculty. He can feel his shoulders tense and his breath hitch. It's his nerves. Saizo knows it is. The last thing he wants is to get off on the wrong foot, so when the cold air hits him, he reminds himself that he needs to breath and keep himself calm.

Once they are finally alone and they are out of sight, Saizo is tempted to take Ryoma's hand in his again. Instead, his fingers simply ghost against his in a small attempt to guide him towards the stone railing of the balcony. They still probably had things they needed to talk about or questions they needed to ask but now there is nothing for him to do except throw caution to the wind.

Perhaps the Saizo that stands before him had this conversation with his Ryoma. Maybe they had left on good terms. It's possible Saizo is offering Ryoma the same opportunity for closure.

"Of course I did. With the war, I didn't have the time to take care of us and Hoshido." The grief of Mikoto and Corrin had been too fresh, too. That wouldn't have been the case for Saizo's king - not completely, at least.

"I'm not sure if this would have been the case on your path, but there had been times during the war where it never felt like it ended. It was selfish of me, but I needed you." On instinct, his hand reaches for something around his neck. Ryoma's hand falls away.

"My plan had always been to go back to you once the war had ended. As we both know, the war ended with my death." Ryoma's voice feels detached from it all. He searches for a feeling, but they all feel too far to grasp. Just like the whistle. His fingers find purchase in his palms, instead.

She sniffed against him.

"I should certainly hope you are," she hissed. Now out of tears, all she had left was the strength in her arms, keeping Ryoma in place. Gods, she was tired. Tired of loosing things. "Don't you ever dare even think of doing something like that ever again. Never leave Sakura and I like that ever again."

Pause. Beat. Make sure all the pain had been spoken... Breathe in. A shaky breath that was unstable, remnants of tears she had run out of. Breathe out. Push the raggedness away and leave just Hinoka behind. Just Hinoka. Not Queen. Not diplomat. Just Hinoka. Ryoma's little sister.

...

"ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ. ᴵ ᵐᶦˢˢᵉᵈ ʸᵒᵘ."

While Hinoka was calming down, it seemed her rage remained. Ryoma didn't mind: he deserved that and more. She was being too kind to him, especially after all that had happened. He didn't complain; it wasn't his decision to make either way.

"I won't. I am here." He stroked her hair gently. She held onto him like he would slip away again, but he wouldn't. Where would he go? He was growing tired of running.

He held her tighter, closer, as one of the most precious things in his life.

"I love you too." He kissed the top of her head. "And I missed you both so much. I won't ask for forgiveness, but I will be at your side for as long as you want me."

Saizo ignores the way Ryoma shifts on top of him, likely to stare at the way he's hiding or make an attempt to remove his head from the crook of his elbow. It's another few seconds and when that does not come, Saizo turns his gaze back to him again. Whether or not his face is still red, he's unsure, but his smile softens once again when his partner tangles their fingers together. He gives a gentle squeeze in return, bringing their hands up to press his lips to the back of Ryoma's hand.

"If we do end up needing to explain this to your family," he lifts their hands as if that would serve as a gesture between the two of them, "I'd be happy to be there when you do." He can't imagine it would go over well with the rest of Hoshido's council or officials but their opinions hardly mattered. One thing at a time. For now, Saizo was extremely content with the way things were.

It's too soon to think of any of this, but his mind wanders. One of their children would be an heir to the throne, another the heir to the clan. Would it be more complicated or simpler to protect a sibling? Would Ryoma want that for any of his siblings?

As the sun slowly rises further, so too does the prince in Ryoma. He must think of the future - their future.

"I suppose I can't tempt you into another five minutes?" Ryoma has no idea how long the previous five minutes has lasted. He's about to lay his head back down, when he hears feet in the hallway outside of his room. The staff are awake, meaning Ryoma has about ten minutes to be ready for them to wake him.

He could avoid her. He considers it, as he sees her form move across the hall like a ripple in a pond. He wants the ghost of her to stop haunting him. It's possible she feels the same about him. Yet as the music dips slower, Ryoma is taken back to a memory of home, and he seeks her out.

"Do you still remember the dance?" He offers his hand to her, and if she cares enough to look, she may notice the healing lacerations in his palm.

She does. In the gold lighting of the space, the marks on his palm stick out like glass against dirt. Eyes linger on his palm, before flickering back to his face; and then, she smiles as she takes his hand.

It's mellow, sorrowful when she smiles. "I could not forget," she reassures. "It was Mother who taught me, and my brother," she squeezes his hand, pulling them back toward the center of the floor, "who kept it in permanent memory."

In the colors of Nohr, laced with the once-familiar patterns of Valla, enjoying a dance from Hoshido. It is the ghost of Azura that haunts her too: the betrayal, righteous even if painful, as her soul stretched to cover all lands and only found itself torn. If only there was a way for her to keep them all together.

Memory is a funny thing, malleable and soft. It's hardly permanent. There had been a time he thought they would always be family, yet that hasn't come true. None of what they wanted came true.

Together, in a dance, they try to hold up a fragmented, distorted mirror of a memory. It feels like it crumbles in his hands, the longer he tries to hold onto it. Yet he does, if only to still feel something for his sister. For Azura. For whoever she may be.

[ CHAMPAGNE ] - And from one of the finest bottles Adrestia has to offer. No student is allowed more than a single glass, and it looks classier to swirl it before it's empty. ( ethereal ball : part two )

THERE IS NO ESCAPING IT. As an illusionary wonderland continues to unfurl, Tsubaki finds himself then ushered to a gathering of staff. Bottles of golden liquid— champagne, they call it— are distributed and when he blinks, he's holding a glass. A person besides him comments off-hand: Here's to a perfect night! But the night still has to conclude, so isn't this a bit early?

Idly, someone twirls the glass with their wrist. Another, too. So, Tsubaki mimics and follows in suite for, surely, this is how they must draw out the flavor. It is in this moment something catches his eye, brighter than bubbling gold: the appearance of his king, which he at once draws closer to. Indescribable expression etches itself into a smile again.

"Greetings, Ryoma-sama!" Tsubaki greets, ushering his voice to flutter. He glances at the glass in Ryoma's hand, then the glass in his hand, then— as if on cue, someone hollers out 'Cheers!' and other faculty follow in suite, thus Tsubaki does before he brings the glass to his lips—-

and comes to an halting stop when the liquid hits his tongue, and it isn't sweet nor rich nor earthy and its weirdly textured—-

but his king is right in front of him so retainer tilts the glass back to his lips to sip it again, to let the flavor coat his tongue properly— then decides, for now, that is enough.

"Wow," Tsubaki says, smiling tightly. "What an interesting drink--! Might I ask for your thoughts?"

(But as he keeps it in his hand, oddly, comes the stubborn urge to sip it again, again, and again until the palate learns to accept it.)

"Good evening, Tsubaki." He thinks of correcting Tsubaki on the use of Ryoma's title, but he doubts there would be much use in it. He swallows it like the champagne, though the champagne is far less bitter on his tongue.

Interesting is such a polite way to put Tsubaki's feelings. Ryoma can say nothing about such dishonesty. He sips his glass again, a little more thoughtfully this time. He wants to laugh at Tsubaki's tight expression, but years of practised decorum won't fail him now.

"It's different," Ryoma concedes, "but I like it. Maybe I've grown used to the wine here." Red wine still tastes like acid to him, but white wine and champagne both taste fine. "If the champagne isn't to your taste, I do have leftover sake from my birthday."

It is. How little he cares scares him but he wouldn't know how Ryoma felt in return if he didn't say anything.

There's a small smile that forms behind his mask again, and his gaze averts downwards then over to their joined hands as he's pulled closer. It's unexpected though his steps do not falter as their dance continues. Maybe Ryoma doesn't realize he'd done it, maybe it was necessary for the dance. He can hear his heart pounding through his ears now, and he knows it will continue as long as they are this close.

"I never got tired of it if that's what you're implying. I still had a purpose and a role I was happy to fulfill." Even while they were seeing each other. He did very little complaining because there was nothing to he was unhappy about. The war took it's toll on his body but that seemed to be the case for everyone in the army. Saizo gives Ryoma's hand a squeeze. It's gentle, the increase in pressure is just barely there but he's holding his hand a little bit tighter now.

Saizo squeezes Ryoma's hand again, and all thought and sense have left his mind. Saizo had been happy, even if he was only fulfilling a purpose. That's such a Saizo mindset. Had they been a duty? No; if anything, what they had must have been a hindrance. Not that it had been much of that, either.

Go somewhere more quiet. He supposes there are still things to discuss. Ryoma isn't blind to it, not completely, but it's hard to imagine the conversation will be good. Ryoma nods. "Of course." He releases Saizo's waist, and he takes in a breath as if it's the first breath he's taken all night.